


Scarred

by The_Archives_of_Silver



Category: Amulet (Graphic Novels)
Genre: Emily is a sweetheart and helps him, F/M, Mentions of past child abuse, Mostly Fluff, Some angst, Trellis is insecure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-26
Updated: 2018-01-26
Packaged: 2019-03-09 18:17:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13487043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Archives_of_Silver/pseuds/The_Archives_of_Silver
Summary: Upon looking in the mirror, all he sees are his imperfections. But another believes the lines that mark his body are not what define him.





	Scarred

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, my lovelies! My first fic on this website! Hope you love this! Constructive criticism is welcome!

Trellis eyed himself in the full body mirror, hands fidgeting. Tentatively, he slipped off his shirt as his fingers trembled, breath hasting. His eyes opened and he took in a small, sharp inhale at his reflection in the glass.

  
Scars, so many of them riddled his body. The infamous one on his face, lines that scored across his chest, over his shoulders, a couple on his back, his hands, even some on his legs hidden beneath the fabric of his pants. Old scars faded to match his skin tone in some spots, others darker or lighter in color. Some of the scars had form nasty clumps that he had long tried to cut off, hurting him worse.

  
His right arm suffered the most. Scars etched across the skin, crossing over each other, some thin and some thick. Sometimes they hurt, nerves beneath the skin pinched by the thick tissue.  
That explosion on the Luna Moth while he had been in the Void really did a number on him.

  
He gently rubbed at that arm, hoping to ease the discomfort. It really didn’t help but at least it slightly covered up the marks.  
He sat down at his desk, still in sight of the mirror.

  
_Hideous_.

  
That’s all he could describe the lines carved on his body. Not impressive, as Rico commented as he cooked with Luger, not cool as Navin gushed excitedly, not intimidating as Karen had whispered to Leon at some point behind his back.

  
It was uncomfortable, pathetic, and ugly.

It showed he was a constant target of abuse, an easy prey who was simply lucky enough to walk away alive. The skin ached and itched, driving him into clawing at the skin to try and relieve the discomfort but only caused more damage. Equaling more scars.

  
Simply put, it was horrid.

  
He tried to think back to a time before he had all those scars. Yet that blank slate of his memories could reveal nothing. It just made him feel worse.

  
A victim and a nobody.

  
But what’s the use of lamenting

He didn’t want pity from anyone. That seemed to make his situation so much worse. Needing someone to stick up for him was lower than constantly being punished. In truth, receiving help wasn’t all that bad. But to a society where strength was the only trait in a man that mattered, needing help condemned him to nothing but ridicule from males much bigger and stronger than he was. Especially, since the one person constantly pulling him out of trouble was a female. A human female.

  
Oh, how his ancestors must be rolling in their graves. Their descendant, the heir to the kingdom of Gulfen, betrayed his own kind and sided with a human, a female younger than he.

  
_Ha_.

  
He could already hear them disowning him in the Afterlife, already trying to lock the gates for when he finally dies and tries to join them. He wouldn’t put it past them to do that.

  
Seemed like life’s twisted game. Constantly shoved aside, shut away by his own people, abused by the man who had a hand in his very birth, someone who’s job it was to love him unconditionally. The only relative he had who remotely showed any concern for his wellbeing was probably dead and he barely knew his own brother, let alone knew he even had a brother.

Oh, woe was he.

The door suddenly opened, jogging Trellis from his thoughts. He jumped a bit in his seat, too late for him to reach for a covering of any kind.

  
The way Emily looked at him was enough for him to hide away forever.She had one foot in the door, lips parted to say something but her expression dropped into a look of horror when she saw his imperfections. She dropped the book in her hands, the novel on elven history hitting the floor with a loud thunk.

  
For a long moment, something along the lines of minutes or years, neither said anything. Then, just barely above a whisper, she spoke.

  
“Oh my God.”

  
Trellis tore his eyes away from her, face crumpling into a cold glare. He didn’t want to see her look of shock turn into a look of disgust.

 _Well, go on,_ he snarled inwardly, _tell me how ugly it is, how pathetic I am to turn out like this, how-_

“Who did all this to you?” She murmured, slowly stepping towards him.

Trellis watched in silent surprise as she slowly walked up to him, boots not even making a sound on the floor.

  
“That’s nothing for you to worry about.” He muttered.

 _Dammit, are you that much of a coward that you can’t even look her in the eyes,_ he mentally berated himself.

“Trellis, look at me.” Emily murmured.

Trellis paused for a long minute, before slowly meeting her gaze. Her gaze was soft, a mix of sympathy and concern. Quite foreign and a significant change from her usually stern and undeterred expression.

  
“What happened?” She pressed, looking up at him.

Were her eyes always that dark shade of brown?

He glanced down at his scarred skin for a fraction of a second before finally answering.

“I can’t remember all of them but... some were from my father,” Trellis mumbled. “Some were from fights over the years.”

He raised his right arm as an example.

“You recall this one,” He added lowly. “But it’s not something you should concern yourself with.”

  
Emily raised her hand and he went silent, slightly flinching. Emily’s eyes widened a bit at his small draw back. Something bubbled in her chest, a feeling akin to anger but not quite. Not at him, but at someone else.

  
Her hand slowly lifted and hovered over his taut skin. Her eyes locked with his, seeking for permission. He lowered his gaze and turned his head. She understood.

  
_It’s ok._

  
Gently, the pads of her fingers traced over the scars marring his right arm, brushing with feather softness. Despite her gentleness, Trellis fidgeted under her touch, subconsciously shivering at the contact. She paused for a minute, eyes flickering back to his face before continuing.

  
Her fingers outlined the scars, trailing down his arm, along the tightened skin and down to his hand. Her hand lingered against the back of his hand, digits against a thin scar there before lifting away.

  
Her eyes focused on the scars that riddled his chest. With a mild pause, she softly ran her fingers along a scar that crossed strikingly across his collarbone. Trellis shuddered at the contact. She glanced back at him for a fraction of a second but continued.

  
She didn’t go further than his chest, lest she’d come off as too forward and possibly improper. Fingers lingering still on his chest, she studied his face. He seemed relaxed now, eyes closed and expression still.

  
The scar on his face, lines evident where the stitches held the split skin together. The stitches had cut into his then soft skin, doing more damage as they undid it. All it left was an ugly reminder of his offense to his father and king and the pathetic attempt to undo the damage.

At least to him, it did.

  
Emily’s hand lifted from his chest and Trellis felt tempted to peek at her and see what she was doing. His answer came in the form of her gently fingers against his left cheek.

  
By instinct and reaction to the images of someone cruel and masked flashing in behind closed eyes, Trellis flinched away. Emily jumped and her hand lingered in the air before returning to her side.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” She mumbled.

  
Embarrassment settled on his shoulders and Trellis forced himself to relax.

“No, it’s ok.” He pressed, closing his eyes.

Emily hesitated but eventually raised her hand and gentle traced the scar on his face. Her fingers moved slowly across the skin, feeling the lines where the stitches tore into him. The graced up along his cheek, barely touching his eye and along his forehead. With a soft sigh, he seemed finally as relaxed as he was before.

Not quite, he was practically hyperventilating on the inside and only seconds away from having a heart attack. Though she said no negative comments or seemed to show any sort of disdain or pity, he still waited in apprehension. It was only a matter of time until she spoke.

  
“You’re so much stronger than you realize.” She said softly.

Trellis opened his eyes in surprise and stared down at her.

Her expression was gentle and kind, a small smile gracing her lips.

“I know that life has treated you unfairly but just remember that you have someone on your side, someone who really cares about you.”

Trellis knew he wouldn’t have to ask who that was. He understood.

After a long moment of amazingly comfortable silence, Emily voice cut through it.

  
“You want to read something?” She asked, removing her hand from his cheek.

He hadn’t even realized she was still touching him, secretly missing the contact like one would miss a loved one on leave. Bittersweet, almost.

  
“Yes, that seems like a good idea.” He sighed.

Sitting on the bed, he picked up a book from his nightstand. He had expected her to sit directly across from him, like usual or to gesture for him to sit up so she could sit back to back with him, something that was rare yet somewhat intimate in its own way. Instead, she inched into the bed by his side, resting against him with a book she had picked from his small collection. With her pressed against his arm, Trellis’ heart suddenly violently twisted in his chest in a mixture of being deeply moved and another oddly exciting and confusing emotion he had yet to describe. She was right, somebody does care about him. More than anyone ever did, more than he even cared for himself. His throat burned and he turned his head away.

  
Emily felt his shoulder jerk against her and slowly, she rested her head on his shoulder but made no other motion. She knew he wouldn’t like it if she saw him crying.


End file.
